


Adult Humans Are Complicated

by hearmerory



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Divorce, Lucifer has shitty parents, Lucifer tries to explain humans, Season 1, Trixie is cute, god and goddess fight worse than Dan and Chloe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23293066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearmerory/pseuds/hearmerory
Summary: Trixie wishes her parents would stop fighting. Lucifer is and isn’t helpful.
Relationships: Trixie Espinoza & Lucifer Morningstar, Trixie Espinoza/Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 203





	Adult Humans Are Complicated

“Lucifer, how come they’re always fighting?” Lucifer looked down at the impossibly small child sitting on the hard bench of the police station next to him. She barely had any of her teeth, and her hair was pulled into short pigtails on each side of her face. 

He glanced over to the Detective and the Douche through the glass. They both looked defensive, and Dan slapped his hand down on the desk as Chloe’s posture became more antagonistic. They were clearly sniping at each other.

“They’re not _always_ fighting,” he looked back at the urchin. She squished up her face in disagreement.

“Whenever they’re together, they fight. I wish they wouldn’t,” her shoulders slumped, and her shoes scuffed on the floor as she swung her feet.

“Well, they’re taking a break right now, correct? Spending some time apart? Time not fighting?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “but Mommy and I moved out months ago, and they haven’t stopped arguing yet.”

“How does that...” he tried to channel his new therapist. The part where she calmly asked him questions, not the part where she screamed his name from the fold out couch, “...make you feel?” The little girl’s mouth turned downwards.

“I want them to be friends again,” tears filled her eyes, and she put her hands under her thighs.

“Sometimes... parents are better apart than they are together,” he said quietly, looking over at the detectives behind the glass. They were in a world of their own, dislike and struggle for power practically radiating from them.

“Did your Mommy and Daddy fight?” The child sniffed. Lucifer stiffened. He had spent very little time in the last few millennia thinking about his family. His usual policy was that anything before the Fall just wasn’t worth thinking about.

“They... had their moments,” he murmured. He felt, for a second, the hard, hot ball of fear that would settle in his stomach as he heard them screaming at each other, the skies full of lightning and storm clouds, the ground of the Silver City shaking with their rage.

“Did they start being friends again?” There was hope in her voice that he didn’t want to crush. But he always told the truth.

“No, spawn. Father banished Mum to Hell a few centuries after me.”

“My Daddy won’t banish Mommy, right?” Concern rose her voice even higher.

“No, of course not. If anyone’s doing the banishing, it’s your mother,” he winked at the child, and she smiled her odd toothless smile back at him.

“Sometimes it gets scary, when they fight,” she said quietly after a moment, glancing back over at her parents. The Detective was running her hand over and over her hair, and the Douche had his hands on his hips, his nostrils flaring. Both of them postulating like animals ready to charge each other.

“You’re afraid?” For a moment, anger rolled in his stomach. How dare they frighten her?

“They’re loud,” she said after a slight pause.

“They never hurt you? Or each other?” He had to check. He’d seen enough small, broken souls in Hell to know the weight of guilt and fear in a bad home. He couldn’t imagine the Detective letting that happen to this small human. But he had to _know_.

“No,” she drew out the word, “but they get sad. Mommy cries.” Tears filled the child’s eyes, and Lucifer felt the tug of more memories. Mother flooding Father’s Earth with angry tears. Father exploding Lucifer’s stars in rage. Young angels scattering in their wake as they tore the City apart. Hiding, far, far away, in the dark spaces between worlds, hoping neither of them would find him, clinging to the bitter knowledge that they wouldn’t bother to look. He felt his breath hitch, and focused back on the child.

“Adult humans are... complicated, child.”

“Lucifer?” She whispered, lisping slightly through the gaps in her teeth, her bottom lip quivering, “sometimes they fight about me. Is it... is it my fault?” Beaten, bleeding, his wings bound tight behind him, forced to kneel on the ground before Father, listening to them scream at each other about what to do with their insolent, rebellious, _evil_ son.

“No, child,” his voice wasn’t quite as strong as he wanted it to be. “No, it’s not about you. Your Mother and Father are simply renegotiating their relationship.”

“So... some day it will go back to normal?”

“It will be different,” Lucifer shrugged a little. The fighting had only stopped when Father had closed the door to his workshop, and Mother had closed the door to her rooms, and the angels stopped expecting their parents to speak to them. “But it might be better. I’m told that children of divorced humans get two of every holiday. Double the presents.” The child giggled.

“Daddy didn’t tell Mommy we went out for ice cream after school on Monday, and Mommy took me again yesterday,” she whispered, grinning.

“See? Benefits.”

The detectives seemed to be wrapping up their discussion. Dan held his hands up placatingly, and the Detective was nodding.

“I wish they’d hurry up and be friends again,” she sighed, looking over at them as Dan lowered his hands and they stepped apart.

“I know,” and he did. He remembered that longing for everything to go back to how it had been before. For them, it never had.

“Will you come make us dinner tonight?”

“Of course, spawn, if your mother agrees.”

“She will,” Trixie grinned, “she likes you.”

“Oh?” Something warm and mysteriously hope-like settled in his stomach. “Then I will be certain not to disappoint.”


End file.
